


Any Surface

by theweddingofthefoxes



Category: Dredd (2012), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Aftercare, Blow Jobs, Body Worship, D/s, Facials, Fluff, Honeymoon, Lingerie, M/M, Praise Kink, Very Mild Daddy Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-03-09
Packaged: 2018-09-22 08:33:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9596645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theweddingofthefoxes/pseuds/theweddingofthefoxes
Summary: Matt and Techie (Bren) have only been on their honeymoon for a short while, and they're determined to get down right away, especially since their actual wedding night was, well, not particularly exciting. Making up for lost time with lots of fluffy, consensual d/s and praise!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ArtemisClydeFrogge](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtemisClydeFrogge/gifts).



> In this story, Techie's a nickname and his real name is Bren. Armitage is his older brother, who's loaded. And Matt and Bren have just gotten married (which is what was requested, but how perfect to be posting this the day after the Techienician anniversary! I could lie and say I planned it, but. That just kinda worked out!)
> 
> A gift for the absolutely stunning and wonderful artemisclydefrogge!

The hotel website had said ‘honeymoon cabin’ in swirly, romance-novel script, as if Nora Roberts had had a hand in the design of this package. It included complimentary wine, a bed the size of the entire bedroom Bren had grown up in, a private beach area (in case they wanted to fuck there? The prospect alarmed Bren, but the site emphasized the privacy of this beach area with such ferocity that he could only assume this was the case), massages, a rain shower. It was ludicrously expensive. Armitage paid for it, seven days six nights, without blinking.

“You can’t!” Bren had said, shivering with real horror.

“You have no say in my gift for you and Matt,” Armitage answered, snapping his MacBook shut with a smart, businesslike click. “If you choose to miss your flight to San Juan, that’s your own business, but it’d be a shame to let that room go to waste.”

“Tidge, you don’t….God. That’s so much money.”

“Then understand it’s the only wedding gift I’ll give you in your life. If you decide to remarry, you’re on your own.” Armitage’s face was steely-stubborn, the face of a man who long ago established that he refused to be argued with, but there was something soft in his eyes. It was a look that Bren knew well. “I know that won’t happen, though. You and Matt…you understand each other too well.”

_Understand_. Not love or like or anything like that, but understand—and understanding something that Armitage valued above all else. He went on. “You two deserve something nice. Something very, very nice, something elegant and indulgent. This is exactly what the two of you should have for your wedding. Believe me.”

Matt’s take on the matter was slightly less restrained. 

“Holy shit,” he whispered to Bren as they crossed the lobby, which was partially open to the fresh ocean air and had a marble floor and a birdcage the size of a phone both with two neon blue macaws having what sounded like an argument in squawks. “This is unreal. I didn’t even think I’d like, drive past a place this nice in a car, never mind _stay_ here.”

“Tidge insisted,” Bren said, shyly, yet weirdly proud, being the owner of the brother who had insisted. “He, uh. Saw me looking online at places, and he nearly threw up when he saw me looking at Best Westerns. ‘Think bigger’, he said, and I told him I was trying to stay on budget, and he whipped out his computer and booked us here instead.”

“Jesus. Remind me to use the good stationary on his thank-you note.”

They’d arrived in Puerto Rico around noon, and it was odd to land somewhere so different—so warm and lovely and lush—that was in the same time zone as the big grey city they’d just left. Even the sunshine felt different, less diluted by the big buildings. At home, they rode the elevator ten floors up and their view was of the building next to them, with just a little sliver of street. Today, though, they were being led to a private outbuilding, separate from the hotel itself, a little house just for them right on the beach. “You’ll be able to call for anything you need,” the hotel employee explained as Matt and Bren were led down the wooden walkway towards their cabin, which was artfully dusted with snow-white sand. “Someone will be with you within five minutes or less. You can also put in your breakfast order for tomorrow anytime before 6 pm….”

Bren was only half listening as the breakfast options were presented. The employee was a lovely, kind woman who had assured them that anything they wanted would be theirs, but all Bren really wanted was to be alone with his new husband. The wedding had been beautiful—everything Bren could have dreamed of—but also exhausting. He hadn’t realized how much tension he’d been feeling in the days and weeks leading up to the actual day until it was over and all he wanted to do was sleep. Thank God Matt had agreed. 

“Baby, are you, uh,” Matt had asked when they finally got home, all their bags packed and sitting by the door, ready to take to the airport, the two of them both warm and sleepy and full of champagne. Bren felt somehow both light and airy and heavy, pleasantly achy. “Are you gonna be mad at me if we don’t fuck tonight?”

Bren had just laughed. “How about we postpone one day? I’m ready to drop.”

“Just 24 hours,” Matt had promised. “Rain check.”

“I’m holding you to it.”

Sleep had been better than nice—it had felt like a reward, something gifted just to them, after all that planning and work. They’d curled up in bed, just barely undressed, everything in a pile on the floor next to them, no bother with showers or brushing teeth, just resting. Bren had woken up six minutes before the alarm was set to go off and this had felt like a reward, too, just getting to watch his husband—not fiancé or lover or whatever, his _husband_ —sleep so deep and soft and unbothered, his sweaty curls pasted to his forehead. He couldn’t help pressing a little kiss to the slice Matt’s of exposed shoulder, just because. _So cute_. Then the alarm had gone off and Matt let out a noise that Bren could only assume was how the bulls in Barcelona sounded when they were being stabbed by the bullfighter. 

So. Nothing sexy on the wedding night. But traditions, of course, were overrated. And really, it had just helped build the anticipation, because as soon as the kind hotel employee handed over the keys and headed back down the wooden walkway to the main hotel, Matt had pressed Bren up to the door and kissed him with the sort of ferocious need that had been put on the back burner for the last week or so while they had been busy stressing over side dishes and photographer fees. 

“We’re not even inside yet!” Bren laughed, pretending to sound like he was protesting. Apparently he wasn’t the only one who’s mind had been wandering while the employee had been talking to them. “Don’t you even want to see the room first?”

“As long as it has a surface for me to lie you down on—”

Bren put a finger on Matt’s lips. “My brother did not pay for just any surface for you to fuck me on, you know. I say we take a look around, at least.”

Matt hmmmed into Bren’s neck, only pretending to be cross. “Tease.”

“Nuh-uh. I’m just being polite. Wanna enjoy my gift properly.”

“I’ve got a better gift for you.”

“In your pants?”

“It’s like you’re psychic.”

“Give me those keys.”

The room was as perfect as the website had made it seem—translucent white curtains that rippled as the afternoon breeze slipped in, a massive slab of bed dominating the west side of the room, all the better for sunset viewing, a welcome basket with a fancy bottle of white wine sitting just the littlest bit askew in a wicker bucket of ice and a scattering of chocolates along with more fruit than the two of them could eat in a year. Matt whistled. “Okay, well. I guess it’s worth stopping to smell the roses for a minute in here.” He unwrapped a chocolate slow, met Bren’s eyes. “Armitage has to know that he basically paid for us to fuck in here constantly, you know.”

“He’s not an idiot. What do you think he thinks we’ll do on our honeymoon?”

“I dunno, Minecraft? Go on one of those little kayaking tours? Maybe we’ll see a sunfish.”

Bren gave Matt a playful shove. “Yes, that’s exactly why he picked the Honeymoon Love Making Sex Cabin. So we could play Minecraft and look at a _sunfish_.”

“Is that really what it calls this suite on the website?”

“Not that far off.”

Matt pulled Bren close. “That sounds like a Chinese bootleg of Fifty Shades of Grey.”

“Does that mean you’ll tie me up?”

The rushed sound of Matt’s inhale was everything Bren could have asked for. 

“God, Bren. Anything you want. Anything.”

Bren slid his fingers through Matt’s hair, his voice quiet but rich, full of want, not his frequent shy-mouse tone. “I want you to tell me what to do.”

Matt’s ears were going red, but the rest of his face looked wolfish, hungry, anticipatory. “Good boy. I was hoping you’d say something like that. Why don’t you put on an outfit you know I’d like?” He sank a kiss into the juncture of Bren’s neck and shoulder, just above the collarbone. “I’ll give you a hint. Less is more, honey.”

It made Bren grin, even as he felt himself go all fuzzy with desire, feeling himself move slow and smooth as honey pouring. “Mm,” he answered. “I think I know just the thing.”  
“Put it on while I go to the bathroom,” Matt whispered in his ear. “Go on.”

What Bren was putting on for him now as Matt went to go (sit on the toilet seat? Brush his teeth for maximum freshness? Investigate the free shampoo?) in the bathroom to wait was both known and not known. They’d been talking about doing this for awhile now, and had decided that their honeymoon would be the perfect time to try it out. There wasn’t much they hadn’t already test-driven by this point, and by now they really knew what pressed the other’s buttons, like how Matt loved being called ‘daddy’, or how Techie liked a bit of a rough hand followed by the gooiest aftercare—so this would be exciting, new. 

For Bren’s last birthday, among other things, Matt had given him a gift card to buy some lingerie to ensure both that it would be just what Bren liked and that it would be a surprise to Matt when he finally saw it. 

Should he call for Matt to come out? He had found the perfect place to stand, and just as he was wondering whether or not to say something, Matt opened the door, pressed against the doorframe, just in boxers. “I hope you’re ready, sweet boy.” 

“Mmhm,” Bren said. “All ready.”

For a moment, Bren doubted himself—was this gimmicky?—but the sound Matt made, once again, assured him that things were going exactly as both of them had hoped. “Fuck, babe,” he nearly snarled, approaching not too fast, like he was trying to catch an animal that might bolt. “Fuck me. What a tease you are.”

Bren had placed himself behind the gauzy white curtains, the breeze still making them ripple, so Bren was just hazily visible behind it, the hem of the long lacy slip fluttering just above his knees. Sizing had been an interesting challenge, thanks to his height and no need to fit out anything in the chest, but Bren had always been good at problem-solving, and rather liked the way he looked in deep blue. The lingerie underneath matched, and the color stood out nicely against the red of his hair and the pearl-white of the curtain. A flicker of worry crossed his mind at the idea someone might see him from behind through the window before he remembered this was their private beach area, and fuck it, he just didn’t care right now, it was his honeymoon, he could have whatever he wanted.

“Little tease,” Matt said. “Such a bad boy.”

“Did just what you asked, though,” Bren responded, pushing out he curtain with his hand so it rippled and billowed even more dramatically, making his image even hazier. “I put on just the outfit you wanted.”

“So let me see it, baby. No hiding allowed.”

Bren felt himself grin again, wiggled back so his ass was pressed to the wall, the window against his back. “Come find me,” he suggested, his voice airy, and Matt made no hesitation in doing just that. He shoved the curtain aside, yanked Bren forward with just the right amount of force—pleasantly aggressive without pulling Bren’s arm out of its socket, just enough to make Bren feel deliciously used. 

“You shouldn’t tell me what to do, babe,” Matt said, holding his wrists tight—god, so good, he could grip even harder if he wanted, Bren could feel his knees going weak with anticipation and just as he found himself listing sideways like that bottle of white wine in the fancy ice bucket, Matt swept him up and dumped him on the bed. “I think it should be the other way around, honey, don’t you? Don’t you think you should do anything I say?”

Bren swallowed hard, nodding. “Yes, daddy. Yes, of course, yes.”

Matt whined, leaned in close, brushed a long lock of hair from Bren’s cheek. Broke the illusion for just a second—“You know what to say if you change your mind?”

“Yes, I promise. Keep going, you can keep going.”

“Just making sure!” Matt crossed the room to retrieve another piece of candy, unwrapped it even slower than before. Slipped back into his dominant mode as he licked his fingers.   
“God. I can’t stop staring at you. I—fuck, I imagined this so many times and it still wasn’t as good as it is in real life. Fuck!”

He unwrapped another piece of candy and approached Bren, holding it out. “Here. Eat up.”

Bren made a show of it, getting on his knees on the bed, gently wrapping his lips around Matt’s fingers as he accepted the sweet, meeting Matt’s eyes, pressing his tongue against the fingertips—it took no time at all to get Matt to moan, just from that. His cock, clearly outlined against his underwear, was at Bren’s eye level. “Jesus,” Matt said, his voice lower and trembling, just the way Bren liked. “That’s my good boy. Good god, let me look at you some more. Lie back for me?”

They both loved the way Bren’s slip rode up when he did as he was told, revealing the midnight-blue panties he was wearing, trimmed in cream lace—“I can’t, holy shit. I can’t even—how is this possible?” Matt was poised over Bren now, on all fours, wiggling out of his boxers. “How is it you’re mine?”

“Mattie, god—”

“All mine. Mine. This beauty, all mine.”

“All yours. Only yours.” Bren looked up at him, at how flushed and wild he looked already, and they’d only just begun—this was only the first hour of the first day! They still had six more days here, in their Honeymoon Love Making Sex Cabin, and then for the rest of their lives because they were married now, they were, it was real—

“Mine. All this—look at all this—” Matt was kissing everywhere, touching everywhere, a flurry of mouth and hands, all over Bren, so much touching, plucking at the straps of the lacy blue lingerie, at the curve of Bren’s neck, at his throat, his narrow chest that was shaking with how hard Bren was breathing, shoved the slip up so Matt could kiss his pale tummy. “So lucky. Look at all of you, here—all of it’s so—so good, so beautiful. Want to kiss all of it. Eat it all up. You want that, babe? Want me to just fucking devour you?”

Bren let out a high thin mm! Nodded furiously.

Matt sat up, suddenly, smiling sly. 

“Well you have to wait, beautiful. You have to remember who’s in charge. You remember, don’t you?”

“You, daddy.”

It was like a punch to Matt’s gut, so strongly did he react. “Yes, me. You know what I want?”

Bren whimpered, feeling Matt’s teasing fingers just barely pulling at the waistband of his panties. “Tell me, Mattie?” 

Matt pulled Bren into a sitting position, pulled the slip up over his head so only the underwear was on, let it fall to the floor with a silky flumph. “Gorgeous boy. Beautiful boy. I want to come all over your beautiful face, Bren. For you to suck me off and make it happen. That’s what I want.” He lifted Bren’s chin so they were looking eye-to-eye, both of them trembling with lust. “You think you can do that for me?”

Bren was panting now. “Yes! Yes, please—please let me—wanna—”

“Use your words, babe. Tell me what you want. You want to make it happen? You want to blow me?”

Bren swallowed hard, tried to speak without his voice shaking, wanting wanting wanting. “Yes, Mattie. Want to blow you so you come all over me.”

“I like when we agree, Bren. My gorgeous Bren.” Matt slid back, clambered down off the bed so he was standing by the edge, poised just so again, while Bren hurried to tie back his hair with the slim black hair tie he’d stashed on his wrist at the airport that morning. Matt asked, half-teasing, half-desperate, his hand on his leaking cock-- “You gonna keep me waiting, babe?”

He was not. Bren could play the innocent when he wanted to, and he loved doing it—not to mention the feedback he got from Matt when he did it, goddamn, but he was not interested in doing anything at this moment besides getting Matt’s cock in his mouth. Not rushing, exactly. Bren wanted to savor it. But no need to be coy now, now that Matt was moaning, both of them exactly where the other wanted them to be. Feedback, even more feedback. Matt was never ever shy about letting Bren know exactly what he liked and how much he was enjoying it. “That’s just right—oh! Oh, fuck, yes.” He took in a shuddering breath, like a man who had just avoided drowning. “Bren, babe, exactly like that. So good at listening. So perfect.”

Bren said nothing, just took him a bit deeper, pressed his tongue against him, just to hear Matt’s sounds get louder and louder, feel Matt’s hands tug rough and demanding on his hair. Pushing Bren’s mouth onto him even more. “Your face is so beautiful. All of you is, all of—you’re perfect. Perfect boy. Wearing such a perfect little set, just for me—”  
He wanted to thank him, agree, do something, and he hummed in acknowledgment, making Matt nearly choke on his own spit as he pulled harder. “So good. Want to—oh! Augh--!”

Matt yanked Bren away so he could do what he’d promised, and Bren closed his eyes, anticipating the heat and slick of Matt’s come. He could hear, just above him, Matt cursing almost incoherently, the words stacked precariously on top of each other as his release took him. 

“Good boy,” Matt almost wheezed. “Oh. Oh, man. Good boy.” He pushed a hand through his curls, exhaling hard, and then leaned down to be at face level with Bren. “My beautiful husband. Fuckin’ A.”

“You swear so much,” Bren teased, unable to keep himself from giggling. The spell broken, softly, perfectly. 

“Your fault. Can I clean you up? Or do you wanna go out like that?”

“What would you do if I did?”

“Pass out, I think.” He busied himself in the bathroom, wetting a hand towel with warm water while Bren laid back down on the bed, feeling the cool of the breeze against the wet streaks on his face. Closed his eyes, then opened them again when he felt the gentle touch of the cloth on his face. “Good?”

“Mmhm. That feels really nice.”

“Should I leave it there? Probably feels good on your eyes.”

“Mmhm.”

“Don’t care that my come’s on it?”

“Nah. Leave it. Probably good for the skin.”

“Should I—?” There was a hitch to Matt’s voice that suggested another round was coming up, and quickly, something that Matt’s hand tugging at the panties that were straining under Bren’s erection confirmed. 

“Please?”

“Gorgeous boy, yes. I told you, anything. Anything you wanted.” Bren felt his eyes squeeze shut under the warm wet cloth, had to bite his lip while Matt slid the underwear off. “Anything you like. Christ, Bren, the way you look in this set should be illegal. How’d I get so lucky--?”

“The way you talk,” Bren whispered. “That should be illegal too.”

“Should I do something else with my mouth, then?”

“Please!”

Matt seemed to have no reason to delay either, maybe to repay him for his good behavior before or maybe out of sheer eagerness or either, both, all of the above. Bren had already been wound tight just from sucking Matt off, and now, getting it in return—it took hardly any time for him to spill in Matt’s mouth, and finally he tore off the wet cloth, gripping it tight in one fist so the warm filthy water dripped out onto the floor, just so he could watch Matt swallow.

“You’re something else,” Bren said, suddenly shy, suddenly so fucking appreciative of Matt, his heart swelling with love. He was a little light-headed from how hard he’d come, too. It was all so much. 

Matt grinned. “Something else? What am I, then?”

Bren pulled him closer, let the cloth fall to the floor with a wet splat, just a foot away from the gorgeous silk slip. “Perfect.”

The look on Matt’s face was so soft and open—a real treat, considering Matt’s default expression was resting bitch face—that Bren just had to bury his face into Matt’s shoulder, laughing and nuzzling, overwhelmed with happiness. Day one, he kept thinking, delirious, joyful. Day one of a zillion. Finally Matt broke the spell again and said, quietly, “Should we put in our breakfast order? Before we miss it?”

“Before we miss it? Matt, the cutoff is six.” It came out muffled against Matt’s sweat-sticky skin. 

“What time is it?”

“Like, two!”

“Two? Two in the afternoon? I must be jetlagged.”

“We didn’t even change time zones, dummy!”

Matt picked up his phone to check the time, as though Bren had any reason to lie about this. “Well, you know what I mean. Traveling and checking in and fucking around. It feels like we left like, two days ago. Doesn’t feel like the same day, you know?”

“Mm, well. We have the whole day ahead of us.” Bren turned so he could speak clearly without pulling away from Matt’s embrace. The breeze had picked up, was making the curtains dance, was ruffling Matt’s curls now, too. “We could go snorkeling, or go on a hike, or swim in the ocean, or go to a restaurant….”

Matt took Bren’s hand so he could nibble on his fingertips. 

“Or we could get room service, crack open that bottle of wine and do all that stuff tomorrow.”

Bren smiled.

“I like the way you think, Mattie.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The honeymoon is under way, lovebirds are stealing snacks, and it's impossible to have a phone conversation without shenanigans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A sweet little continuation as a birthday gift for the always-amazing ArtemisClydeFrogge! Seriously, the hcs she comes up with are stunning and it is a gift to work with her.

They had finished picnicking on the beach and were lying in the sun, digesting and lazing like lions, when the grackles came.

Bren saw them first--two of them, two little birds he thought were crows, at first, but no, they had big yellow eyes and narrower necks and tails that fanned out the way kids hold their cards when playing Go Fish. And bolder, too, curious about Matt and Bren lying on the blanket. Or, well, curious about the sandwich crusts and strawberry tops and soda cans. 

"Matt," Bren whispered, and Matt gave a sleepy hum. "Matt, look. They're so close."

Matt's eyes fluttered open, and then he sat up, seeing how close one of the birds had come. It had a thumb sized crust of bread in its mouth, and it fluttered backward but didn't go away.

"Come on, shoo," Matt said, waving one big hand ineffectively. The first grackle backed up a step, only for the second one to push Bren's Diet Coke over into the sand. "Aw, come on--"

"Let's give them something and they'll go away," Bren suggested.

"They're not trick-or-treaters, Bren," Matt argued. "If we give them something, more will come. And then we'll be swarmed by birds and they'll eat all our food and they'll eat us--" Here he emphasized the word 'eat' with a gnawing kiss--"and nothing will be left but the beach blanket."

"I think you're making things up. At worst they'll shit on us."

Matt grimaced. "Don't want that, either." 

As they play-argued, the two grackles had made off with a fat prize--a full slice of tomato, one that Bren had picked off his sandwich, and a cluster of grapes that had only partially been picked clean by the two humans. Satisfied, they hopped under the shade of a nearby tree and feasted, seeming content with one another's company. 

"Lovebirds," Matt suggested. 

"Just like us," Bren added.

"We're grackles."

"Yes. Loving grackles. We live in San Juan, and we steal food from honeymooners, and we rest in the shade of the beach trees, and we are the happiest lovebird that ever lived..."

Matt kissed a line down Bren's neck, then made a face and stuck out his tongue. "You're sandy," he complained, wiping his face with his arm. 

"We can go wash off back in the cabin. I need to call Armitage, anyway."

Spoiled Bren somehow managed to bound off like a little gazelle, his long legs shiny-pale thanks to gobs of sunscreen and staying in the shade, his hair tied back and a pair of oversized white sunglasses that he'd gotten from the airport protecting his pale eyes from the afternoon glare of the sun off the water. Matt gathered up the remainders of the food, tossed a little more to the grackles, who flapped and crowded around in joy, and shook out the blanket to ensure no sand would follow them back into the cabin. (It would, it was inevitable, but he could at least cut it down.)

By the time he was back in the gorgeous little room, Bren had already wiped his feet off and was lying shirtless on the bed, scrolling through his phone and smiling. "Your face got a little sun, Mattie," he said sweetly, setting his phone aside and sitting up. 

"A little." It looked like he was a mildly embarrassed anime character, two long lines of red across his cheeks. "It doesn't hurt, though."

"Good, means I can kiss it." He pulled Matt closer to him. "Come here..."

"Shouldn't you call your brother first?"

"You think so? That's suspicious." Bren narrowed his eyes, mock-serious, giving him the softest and most painless kick to the shins. "I think you just want to mess around with me."

"I want you to get it out of the way so we can play for the rest of the evening."

Bren wrapped his legs around Matt's waist so they were as close as they could get with clothes on. "Mmm. All right, then. He's probably worrying."

Of course, Bren was right to be suspicious. The moment Armitage picked up, Matt untangled himself from Bren's leg hold and climbed onto the bed next to him, touching his naked knees softly. 

"Hello?" It was impossible not to be able to hear him, he was so damn loud.

"Hi, Armitage."

"Hi, Bren, are you enjoying yourself? Everything's good?"

Matt's fingers trailed upward, toying with the hem of Bren's swimming trunks. Bren bit his lip, knowing exactly what game he was playing, but mouthing 'stop it!' all the same. 

"Yes, everything's good. Everything's really nice."

"Well, what have you been getting into?" Somehow the way he said it suggested that Armitage didn't really want to hear what they were getting into, just the abridged version. The PG one.

"We're going to the rainforest tomorrow. Matt signed us up for the tour." Matt's hand had snaked up even higher, was gently pressed against Bren's dick now, so softly that Bren was able to bite back his moan. "Uh--and probably--probably going to the old part of town too. If we're not too--tired." 

"What about today?"

Matt was pawing at Bren's waistband now, trying to gently work him free.

"Today? Today...today wer had a picnic on the--beach."

"Are you in a taxi, Bren?"

"What? No. I'm--um, burned. I'm trying to get comfortable." 

"Oh, how badly? Is it going to be a problem?"

"I have aloe, don't worry."

Matt grinned, mouthed the word 'lube'. Bren chewed on his tongue, smiling in lovely agony. "Well, all right, just be careful, Jesus," Armitage was saying. "You don't want to have to go to the hospital for sun poisoning or anything. How was your picnic, besides burning up?"

"Good. We saw some grackle--s!" Matt had worked the swimming trunks down enough to get a handful of Bren's ass, squeezing mercilessly. 

"Some what?"

"Grackles. The birds. The grackle birds."

"Hm, I don't know if I'd know a grackle if I saw one."

Matt let go, squeezed the other cheek, and Bren's head lolled back, his ponytail hanging loose and messy down his back. 

"Anyway, how's Matt?"

"Matt is good," Bren said. "Matt's very good." Better, in fact, than Bren could say. Matt's fingers trailed around Bren's hips, his groin, without touching anything that Bren wanted him to.

"Good, good. Well, I don't want to, uh. Take up too much of your time. Take some time to get aloe on, I mean it."

"I will, I promise."

"Have a good night, Bren."

"Goodnight!"

He'd barely hung up before Matt had swooped in for a long, succulent kiss, one that only made Bren harder. 

"You have always wanted to do that, haven't you?" Bren hissed when they parted.

"It's been a dream of mine," Matt confessed. "Really. God, it's so satisfying. Watching you squirm, watching you pretend to be good."

"Wouldn't you rather watch me be actually bad?"

Matt kissed Bren's neck, pulled Bren's trunks the rest of the way off. "More than you could possibly know."


End file.
